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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587044">The Practice of Relativity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/longwhitecoats/pseuds/longwhitecoats'>longwhitecoats</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Watchmen (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Experimental Physics, F/M, Femdom, Rope Bondage, d/s dynamics, though the IRB would probably not approve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:55:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/longwhitecoats/pseuds/longwhitecoats</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Angela contemplates the meaning of time. Set before the start of the series, when Angela and Cal live alone together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Angela Abar/Calvin "Cal" Abar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>JoyFest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Practice of Relativity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/livrelibre/gifts">livrelibre</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Angela sipped her tea, savoring its smokiness and depth. Her favorite tea shop had closed down about a year ago; when this pu-erh blend was gone, it would be gone forever.</p><p>She closed her eyes. What would it be like to experience her whole life at once? Her tea store would never be closed. She could hike Mount Rainier, a place she had only been for a weekend when she turned eighteen, over and over again. Nothing precious would ever be lost to her.</p><p>A flash of yellow gloves caught her eye. Cal was washing dishes in the other room, humming, or perhaps moaning, as he worked. She could see him shifting his weight back and forth, but the partition between the kitchen and her chair kept his lower half from her view. On his naked back, beads of sweat had begun to run down from his shoulderblades. He was entirely nude, of course, and she could see him if she stood up, but she decided for the moment to deprive herself of that, focusing her attention entirely on the sinuous and repetitive motion of his arms, back, and shoulders, letting it build her excitement for the main event to come.</p><p>Anticipation: that was a thrill reserved for those who only experienced moments as they passed. Ultimate and contemporaneous knowledge lost something of suspense. Not knowing the future might make human existence more fraught, but it yielded immense pleasure also.</p><p>Cal was definitely moaning. Angela drained her teacup and set it aside. He was listening to her, she knew. Every tiny ding of the cup on its saucer might mean something; every scrape of the chair on the floor was as melodious as a Bach prelude, presaging a long-awaited climax.</p><p>They had tried this once. Before. He had been flat and unsurprised then; he knew too much. The minutes between her first command and the act itself were the mere length of minutes, precise and measured. It ruined the whole experience for both of them.</p><p>Wasn’t it Einstein, she thought, pulling on a pair of latex gloves—wasn’t it Einstein who quipped that a minute with your hand on a hot stove felt like an eternity, but a minute alone with a pretty girl went by in a flash? Cal had told her that. Before.</p><p>Well, Angela mused, lubing her fingers, he was getting a real practicum in relativity.</p><p>She stood up casually, letting the chair scrape on the floor, and Cal gasped. His head turned toward her for a moment, but he corrected himself, remembering. He was not to look at her; he was not to question her. His job, she had told him at 1:32 pm this afternoon, was to go about his day – naked. And ready at any moment for her to fuck him.</p><p>The blue glow of the microwave clock read 4:01. He had spent three and a half hours in a state of increasing sexual agitation as he cleaned the house, pausing occasionally to reapply lube to his ass and sporting a progressively more demanding erection.</p><p>She walked over to him and laid her head against his shoulder, as she so often did. She could feel him trembling underneath her touch.</p><p>“You’ve been so good, baby,” she said. “Are you ready for me?”</p><p>“Yes,” he gasped. He sounded desperate. “Please.”</p><p>She pushed two fingers into his ass and he nearly dropped a plate in the sink. “Don’t mind me,” she said. “Just checking how ready you are. Keep washing.”</p><p>“Please, Ange,” he gasped, leaning forward over the sink as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. “Hnngh. God, please, I’ve been good—”</p><p>“What did I say?” she said, an edge in her voice.</p><p>“Yes,” he replied, straightening up awkwardly. “Right.” He started scrubbing at the dish he held, already more than clean and shining. His fingers worked in rhythm with hers as she moved inside him. He was hot and slick.</p><p>“Hmm,” she said, adding another finger and building the pace. She fucked him none too gently, either, entering him up to her knuckles with every thrust. He’d asked her for that specifically – <em>I want it hard</em>, he’d said, his eyelashes low, eyes sparkling with lust. “You do seem to have kept yourself ready for me. You’re so fucking wet.”</p><p>“Yes,” he said, arching up into her, “please, Ange, I’ve been so good for you, I’m ready for you—” he trailed off into a string of nonsense syllables.</p><p>She let out a breath. God, he was so beautiful like this, his attention bent solely on her word. His devotion, his determination to please her, felt precious – all the more so because he did not know what temporal limit she would push him to.</p><p>It had been long enough. She was more than ready.</p><p>“All right, baby,” she said, pulling out of him, “you can stop washing now. Let’s go to the couch.”</p><p>He sagged with relief and yanked off his gloves, padding over to the couch. He stood by the arm, waiting for her command, practically glowing with joy.</p><p>Pure pleasure washed over her then. God, she loved him. Every moment of him.</p><p>She shucked off her own gloves and picked up a coil of soft rope from the end table. “Lie down,” she said. “Hands over your head.” He obliged, and she bound his hands, fastening one long loose end to the foot of the couch, to keep him pinned. He writhed as she worked; he was so sensitive to every touch of her skin, every flick of rope.</p><p>“Okay, baby,” she said. “You ready to take me?”</p><p>“Yes. God, yes—”</p><p>“Any way I want?”</p><p>“Any way you want.”</p><p>Angela took her time undressing, enjoying how he watched her, now that he was allowed to look. When she lifted up the harness, a sizeable length of silicone dick extending both inward and outward, his eyes grew wide, and she made a little show of guiding it inside her. She had also been wet for quite some time, and god, it felt good.</p><p>“You’re so gorgeous,” Cal breathed. “Baby, please, I need you—”</p><p>“Shh,” she said, kneeling on the couch and lifting his legs onto her shoulders. “I got you, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.” And she pushed into him, gently, teasingly slow.</p><p>“<em>Oh</em> yes,” Cal said, throwing his head back, his hands pulling involuntarily at the rope. “God. Yes. Angela,” he moaned.</p><p>“You did so good, baby,” she said, pulling out and then thrusting in harder, willing herself to go as hard as he wanted her to. Every snap of her hips built heat between her legs that seemed to spread through her entire body. “Just like I told you to. Just like that, yes, ah—”</p><p>“Ange, please let me come, please—”</p><p>“Not yet,” she said, though she suddenly realized she was closer herself than she’d thought, feeling her thighs begin to shake. She fucked him fluidly now, leaning against his thighs as her hips pumped. “Okay, <em>almost</em>,” she conceded, breathy. “Almost—there—”</p><p>“<em>Please</em>, I can’t—I can’t—”</p><p>“Can you come without me touching you?”</p><p>“I don’t think so, I—” He was lost in it, out of his mind with pleasure, a single furrow in his brow showing the frustration of being kept on edge, still, by his own body.</p><p>Angela shifted his weight to one arm and reached forward to stroke him. He was practically throbbing, slick with sweat and precome, as she moved her hand in time with her hips, as fast as she could. “Okay, baby. Come. You can come now.”</p><p>Cal went off like a firework, his cries of ecstasy so loud they were almost screams. She held still inside him as he arched through it, the only motion from her hand; his orgasm seemed endless, far beyond a mere physical release, and she lost track of time entirely as she watched him, blissful, beautiful, hers, hers, hers.</p><p>When he came down, he looked wrung out and utterly happy. “Thank you,” he said, wincing a little as she pulled out and then reached to unbind his hands. “Thank you.”</p><p>“You can thank me by helping me finish this,” Angela said, almost laughing, and Cal dove forward to put his hand right there, right where the pressure was <em>exactly</em> right because he knew her so well, and she rode it until the feeling crested, sharp and bright. “Yes—like that, yes, fuck, fuck—”</p><p>She was silent as she came. It felt, suddenly, as though she had expanded outside of herself and was watching everything in a single still moment: the arch of her back; the light spilling over them both from the kitchen; the intensity on Cal’s face, the pureness of his love and desire.</p><p>Then it passed, and time ticked forward again. She collapsed forward on his stomach as he moved to put his arms around her.</p><p>“Hi, baby,” she said, a little giggly.</p><p>“Hi,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “I love you.”</p><p>“Yeah?” she panted.</p><p>“Yeah. You’re the best.”</p><p>“I love you too,” she said. “Let’s get cleaned up, okay?”</p><p>It was only later, when they had showered and she put on her favorite pajamas, that she wondered what this memory would be like for him. After. Would he remember the anticipation he had felt? Would it be better, knowing what would happen?</p><p>She looked over at him. He was fussing with the bookshelf, trying to fit a few more volumes on it. They really needed to buy a new one.</p><p>He felt her gaze and looked up. “What is it?” He said.</p><p>She couldn’t tell him. “Just thinking about you,” she said. She didn’t want to lie to him. “I’ll tell you some other time.” She would, maybe. After.</p><p>He smiled. “I can wait."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to dr_whom for the beta, and thanks to you for requesting these two -- I love them a lot. I hope you like it, buddy! &lt;33333</p></blockquote></div></div>
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